


Final Hour

by Seasonal



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Bad endings, Gen, Spoilers, This is not a happy thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasonal/pseuds/Seasonal
Summary: Their bond is absolute.But sometimes, there are nights when the fog rolls in.
Kudos: 19





	Final Hour

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually something I wrote back in 2011 and only just dug back up on a whim and fussed with to fling it into the ao3 abyss. Basically, I thought that the game letting you jump back a week in time if you messed up saving the monthly victim was too interesting a concept to ignore and how that might actually have some lingering and unintended effects.
> 
> There are spoilers all the way up to the November dungeon.
> 
> Also the protagonist is Souji Seta because I love the manga names too much, I'm not sorry. (I swear I love him too, sometimes you just gotta write these things.)
> 
> Thank you! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, even if the comment is just screaming. :)

Their bond is absolute. When they gather, it's generally assumed that Kanji will stammer in front of Naoto (who will take it the wrong way and grow concerned while Rise giggles and pats his arm with both sympathy and amusement), Yosuke will inevitably say something that he should have kept to himself, Chie will challenge him on it (Teddie joining in, because Teddie doesn't like to feel left out, even if he doesn't understand it), and Yukiko will collapse into wild snickers and hoots while Souji surveys them all with that quiet smile of his. He understands them, because they've all come to him, believing in his power, his leadership, trusting in him to guide them when everything else crumbles beneath their feet.

Their bond is absolute.

But there are nights.

Nights where Yukiko moans restlessly, writhes against her sheets in a stricken parody of some tortured memory. She remembers crimson wings burning against her skin as sharp feathers cradle her cheeks and draw forth both blood and tears. What was once obscured in fog is now terrifyingly clear and she tries to scream, but the cruel princess presses her lips to her half-open mouth and swallows it into complete silence.

Swallows it like the dark shadows flowing up her kimono, blending in with the other Yukiko's dress - wings - and she's being consumed. There is nothing loving in this monster's embrace, but Yukiko can't pull away.

"Forever trapped in her tower, poor princess, lonely princess," the Shadow coos soothingly, and then her tone sharpens into a vicious hiss that tightens around Yukiko's neck like a noose. " _I'll set us free._ "

And _everything_ is crimson then, her own reminiscence drifting back to her on an ill-timed remark - _Chie said red looks good on me_ \- and the snow child is no more. Like she had ever been _someone_ , when she had always been too afraid to grasp that chance for herself.

She wakes to find the fog has set in.

* * *

Kanji doesn't moan. No _real_ man moans, but no real man should be getting straddled by a half-naked version of himself, strong enough that he can't rip those curled fingers away from his throat. It's both grotesque and sexual and Kanji fights with all of his might against this sick bastard wearing his face - but not his face at all, like _hell_ he'd ever make that kind of shitty simpering pout like he _wants_ this -

"Oh, but you _do_ want this." The Shadow both sighs and snarls, shoving their groins together. His arms ripple, bulge with rapidly budding muscle, and the steam mixed with the overpowering scent of rotting petals seriously makes Kanji want to hurl. His body can't seem to decide whether it wants to reject and accept, and this makes him feel even sicker.

"Accept it. _Accept it_." He would wonder over the growing desperation in his Shadow's voice, except what remains of Kanji's strength is focused on thrashing against his captor and wheezing for breath. "Accept _me_ , _**SOMEONE ACCEPT MEEEEEEEEEEEE--**_ "

"Fuck you," Kanji rasps in as harsh a choke as he can manage, and when the Shadow's sob turns feral and his head is slammed into the unforgiving wood of the floor, he comforts himself by knowing he went out fighting.

This doesn't stop him from waking his mother with his hoarse screams, however.

* * *

Rise, surprisingly, is quiet in her dreams.

Her Shadow is not, and the brightness of her bikini - gold shifting to orange to red to greentobluetopurple- and her eyes, it burns _her_ eyes to look directly at her, this girl who looks so much like her but who isn't, because Rise isn't a slut, she wouldn't defiantly peel off that top after a simple tug at the strings, she's _not_ what the agency makes her out to be, but the shrill laughter and the demanding voice won't _stop_.

She looks away, still mouthing out weak denials, but the fog that was once in this gaudy place seems to have made a home inside of her; she's tired, sluggish, head spinning, and she can't even do so much as jerk away when the other Rise yanks the handkerchief out of her hair and drags her in close.

" _Look at me_ ," and for just a second, it's less of a gleeful order-- it's an angry plea, and that's what truly terrifies her, more than the knowledge that this will be how she dies.

Because for that second, she _can_ see herself.

"I'm... I'm not..." Everything is culminating in clashing colors and discordant noise, throbbing and dizzying, a broken and frenzied melody that no one could possibly grasp, and Rise gasps for-- air? Help? Understanding? She doesn't know anymore.

"I can see it," her Shadow whispers, triumphant. "I can see everything. The world will see you, Risette, just like you _always_ wanted. Then let's give them one final show before the curtains close."

And it's like she's also there inside of her, stripping her bare, seeping into every weakness, everything Rise's struggled to suppress, but can't, not from herself. The pain flares and swells into an agonizing tidal wave, engulfs her to where she's helpless to fight back. Her heart pounds a fierce staccato with the club's beat until the music overpowers it, every noise, every thought - _no, no, this isn't what I want, not like this, please!_ -

The last thing she hears is the nauseating swell of a crowd roaring its approval, before she flings herself upright in bed. The cat once snug in somnolence on her chest squawks in startled protest as he leaps to the floor and regards her with a wary stare.

Rise slowly slips down onto the carpet and cries silently.

* * *

Naoto is succinct and precise.

Her Shadow remarks on this, the robotic side of her face gleaming emotionlessly, while the human side curls with a sardonic smile.

"You brought yourself to this, you know. You and your pitiful excuses for logic, hoping you'd be understood, accepted, _welcomed_."

Naoto has tried multiple times to break the bonds that hold her to the cold metal table, with no success whatsoever. All she can do is glare vehemently at the monstrosity hovering over her, even as she swallows a lump in her throat that might possibly be the prelude to tears. How utterly foolish, she thinks bitterly, but she'd been a fool to risk this much from the start, without stopping to consider that that group might not somehow involve themselves this time around. She isn't one of their own, after all. Perhaps her comment that this had been just a game for them had pushed her one step past their mercy.

"No matter how hard you try, no one will ever take you seriously. But I have a solution for that." Her Shadow cackles, reaching for the scalpel. "After the procedure, they'll have _no choice_."

To her credit, Naoto doesn't scream as the scalpel punctures flesh.

She _does_ , however, stagger out of bed to go be discreetly sick without rousing the butler.

* * *

Yosuke and Chie aren't exempt. Sometimes Yosuke finds himself checking his phone, wondering if he'd imagined calling Souji, hoarse and hesitant about finding Yukiko's body while the scream of sirens echoes in his ears. Chie once calls Rise on a complete and total whim, not sure why, just that she feels she needs to absolutely confirm that the idol is alive and whole. Yukiko and Kanji uneasily discuss having the same dreams, also of calling Souji with grim news, the latter gritting out an irate "Naoto's _alive_ , dammit! Who the hell needs to be dreaming of morbid shit like this?!"

It isn't until Rise comes to school, red-eyed and wan (she at first insists this is only because she's worried about Nanako still trapped in the other world), that the second subject of their dreams comes up in hushed conversation.

As expected, they go to Souji. Hesitantly, four of the eight admit to patchy nightmares that feel all too real. Four of the eight (different this time) feel as though they've witnessed something heartbreaking. One of the eight frowns, looking expectantly at "Sensei", because he may be a Shadow, but he once again doesn't understand what this all means.

The last of the eight says nothing.

"It's... probably just too much Mystery Food X, right?" Yosuke is the first to break the uneasy silence with a shaky smile, but no one smiles with him. "C'mon, Chie, you and Yukiko had to sample your own stuff eventually."

Chie aims a kick at him from under the table, while Yukiko adjusts her headband and stares down at her lap. "It all felt so... so _vivid,_ " she confesses quietly. "But... we're all here, because we were saved in time. Surely… it must just be stress?"

"Still, the fact that the timing of these dreams coincides with the fog can't be overlooked." That's Naoto, astute as ever, and unwilling to let this go without investigating more thoroughly. "Souji-senpai, I believe there might be some connection to these dreams, fragmentary as they are. Might we hear your opinion?"

Souji looks at them - all seven of them - and in his head, Igor's words are both gentle and accusing.

_The mystery has deepened... and the fog has grown much thicker._

He'd been too arrogant, laser-focused on the promise of strength held by his Social Links, making Eri feel like a worthy mother, letting Sayoko closer to entice him into darker pleasures. How could he explain to Yukiko that he was learning lines for a play while she was being ripped apart in a castle? How could he possibly tell Kanji "Sorry that you got murdered, I was folding envelopes and putting together a model"?

Rise had died in agony while he'd gone on a group blind date with Daisuke and Kou, Naoto while he tutored Shu. The stronger his Social Links, the stronger his Personas. They could sweep through those dungeons in one go, if only he had the power those bonds bestowed upon him.

_Whether you end your journey here, or retrace your steps some ways…_

"... Senpai?" Rise's voice is smaller than usual, begging for assurance. Souji looks into her eyes, remembering them narrowed, her voice sharper and furious, accusing him of cowardice, his cousin _needed_ him, and he wouldn't go, but he _couldn't_ go, he wasn't strong enough to absolutely annihilate the kidnapper for putting Nanako in danger, and that obsession, what had driven him to develop his strength, had taken over-- and then Kanji had called, _two_ bodies this time--

_The time has come to make a decision._

"Everyone was under a lot of strain." It's calming, his usual Leader tone, and he can already see them relaxing subtly under the warmth and weight of his words. Trusting him, like always. "It's not surprising that you'd have nightmares about what could have happened, but if that _had_ happened, you wouldn't be here right now. We would never let anything happen to those thrown in there-- don't we all know this by now?"

"Y-yeah!" Teddie chimes in. "Everyone's here with me, safe and sound! Sensei wouldn't let anyone die!"

"Man..." Yosuke chuckles weakly. "I guess it's just the situation getting to us. C'mon, let's go in there today and work on getting Nanako-chan back. That'll get our minds off of weird dreams."

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Kanji's fist pump is enough to dispel the rest of the tension, and the group is back to chattering animatedly as Souji leans back in his seat and rubs his forehead wearily.

Their bond is absolute.

He's had six chances to make sure of that.


End file.
